


Poker Face

by Pokypup49



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Lots of dialogue, Poker, Riza is smarter than she looks, Team Mustang - Freeform, light royai - Freeform, story telling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-04-03 16:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21477595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokypup49/pseuds/Pokypup49
Summary: Riza Hawkeye is not allowed to play poker with the gang anymore. Fuery finds out why.
Relationships: Roy Mustang & Team Mustang, Team Mustang - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	Poker Face

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the Fullmetal Alchemist characters.

“Why can’t we invite her. That’s not fair.” 

“No, Fuery. We can never invite her.” 

“Why not?” 

Lieutenant Breda and Lieutenant Havoc both looked at each other with a loud gulp. “We don’t,” Havoc reaffirmed. 

“This had been an office tradition for the past two years, and she’s not invited.” Fallman stood up in his seat and walked over to the other three officers. “There’s a heavy price to pay when she’s involved.” 

“It’s a guy thing,” Breda quickly answered a cheap response waving his hand and attempting to dismiss the concern. 

“That’s a bit sexist,” Fuery frowned. “She’s part of the team. It’s not a team poker game without her.” 

The three looked around as if verifying that First Lieutenant Hawkeye was nowhere to be found. The air in the room thickened with tension and mystery as Havoc pulled a seat closer to Fuery. He spun it around so he could lean forward on the back of the chair. Slowly, he pulled out a cigarette, setting it softly between his lips and lighting it, even if Hawkeye had banned smoking from the office. He took in a long inhale from it. Breda brushed off his jacket before leaning on the desk divider. He frowned, looking serious as he stared at Fuery. It looked as if Fuery had asked him for his sandwich; a dangerous warning in his eye. Falman leaned on the wall behind Fuery, crossing his arms and dropping his head. He gave a long sigh, representing more of an old cowboy with too many sad and terrible stories his old eyes had seen. Young Seargent Fuery, who was only first invited to the poker game they joined in every Friday, sat in the middle. He looked around, fearful of the next actions of his co-workers and brothers-in-arms. He felt the weight of a story on his shoulders. 

“This must never be repeated,” Breda warned lowly. 

Falman behind him hummed an agreement. 

“If she ever found out, she’d surely murder all of us,” Breda continued. 

Havoc took another long drag from his cigarette. “This started before your time, Kid.” His voice heavy, a detective telling his story of his greatest case. Though Fuery knew it was not a detective story. It was a legend that the famous Lieutenant Hawkeye had immortalized in the fearful memories of these men. “When we first came together, Colonel was a Lieutenant Colonel at the time. He wanted us to bond.” 

“Get along,” Falman added coldly from behind. “He wanted us to know each other.” 

Havoc nodded. “So, he organized this poker game every Friday night. It wasn’t a big deal. The first night seemed friendly enough. The first game, Hawkeye sat back, drank, and watched us more than anything. She played a couple hands, lost, but didn’t give any indication that she was upset.” 

“It was a ploy,” Falman added again. 

“Her plan all along,” Breda confirmed. 

Fuery looked around, feeling the air around him hard to breathe. “What do you mean?”

“The second Friday came, and we all met up at Colonel’s apartment as usual.” Havoc continued on with the story. “Breda and I bought beer, Mustang had nuts and popcorn, and in comes Lieutenant. But,” he said seriously as he lifted a finger, “she was not the lieutenant that we see here. She wasn’t even the Hawkeye we saw the week before.” Havoc leaned back. “She had on this beautiful red blouse that came low, and this skirt that flowed on her. It was a dark black color.”

Fuery looked around as he was all three of them nodding. 

“Makeup and the whole shebang,” Breda confirmed. 

“She comes down and sits between Breda and me, looking at the Colonel with this sparkle in her eye.”

“She was eyeing her prey,” Breda grumped.

“Are we sure we’re talking about Lieutenant _ Hawkeye _,” Fuery asked, suspicious the story. 

They all nodded again. 

“Falman delt first. We were playing Southern Hold ‘Em. It was from South City. She calmly looked at her cards and folded the first two hands. Then Colonel delt the cards. She added to the ante, then put down her cards and poured herself a glass of Colonel’s whiskey on the table. Her movements slow, and practiced. The way she brought the glass to her lips-”

“Wait,” Fuery quickly interrupted. “Is this why you all have the hots for her?”

All three of them blushed a bright red. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Havoc deflected. 

Breda quickly shook his head and Falman was stiff as a board against the wall. 

“That’s beside the point,” Breda coughed. “Point is, she had all of our attention on her. Colonel was the only one that was able to look at his cards. It was like he was unfazed.” 

“He did win the first game,” Falman reminded. 

Havoc continued. “So, she sighs and ups her bet. It was like it was too easy for her.” 

“Like she didn’t care.” 

The blonde member nodded to his redheaded friend. “Boom, she won the hand. Then she won the next and the next.” 

“She mastered the bluff,” Falman added. 

“We don’t know to this day if she bluffed or not. We were convinced it was a strategy because she’d win a few, lose one, then fold another.” 

“But Colonel,” Havoc said after he blew the cigarette smoke to the side. “He was just as calm as her.” 

“He was drinking more and more,” Falman reminded. “He would take a sip every time she won.” 

“So he was nervous,” Fuery determined. The youngest member nodded. “She was putting him on edge the most.” 

“I finally got this amazing hand. I remember it was a straight flush.” Breda nodded with a grin. “I thought I had her. She had stolen most of our money by that point and I was determined to walk out winning. She kept putting chips in, and I’d match it. Finally, she broke. She turned her head and stared right at me, like she was telling me to stop. I thought I had her.” 

Falman snorted a laugh from behind. 

“She lays down the same hand! But her’s was one card higher. She beat me just by that much.” 

“She knew,” Havoc grumped, putting his cigarette out on his shoe and flicking it to his desk. 

“I don’t think she did,” Breda argued, glaring back at his friend. “Not by the look she gave me.” 

“She was looking at Colonel a special way,” Falman interrupted them as he rubbed his chin. “The night before, she was watching him too.” 

Fuery crossed his arms and leaned back. “She was watching for his tells,” he muttered. 

“I’m convinced so.” 

“Why Colonel though?” 

Havoc shrugged. “But I will tell you this, Seargent Fuery, she wiped us clean. I mean, nothing left.” 

“I had a chance,” Breda continued to grumble, his fists shaking. “If I wouldn’t have folded… I don’t think she had anything a couple of those times.” 

“She had us scared,” he continued. 

Fuery laughed, leaning back in his chair. “She had you guys strung up! You were too distracted by her to pay seriously.” 

Havoc quickly agreed with a nod. 

“Colonel was the only other one doing okay against her.” 

Havoc nodded again at Falmnan’s remembrance. “But he was joking and smiling…” 

“He was drunk,” Breda confirmed. 

“Or playing drunk. The guy was grinning, playing loosely. He was holding his own against her. I think we all beat her at least once. But I’m convinced she let us win those times.” 

The other two nodded towards Lieutenant Havoc. 

“Once I was out and Breda was out, it was Falman, who seemed to have a fighting chance against Colonel, was left. She folded, leaned back and applied some bright red lipstick.” 

“I could see Colonel’s neck muscles twitch as he wanted to look at her.” 

“Womanizer that he is,” Fuery laughed. 

“You could see Falman stare.” 

“I was not,” he argued quickly. Fuery turned around to see him red in the face again. “I just had never seen that kind of shade on her before! I thought I might… I might like to get some for… my own girlfriend.” 

The other three officers stared at him, clearly not believing him. 

“But,” Havoc nodded with a grin. “I think she knew the only competition that was there was Colonel. She was trying to get his attention away from his cards.” His fingers tapped on the back of the chair. “Then she poured herself some more whiskey, coughed lightly, and folded.” 

“You guys never found her tell?”

All three shook her head. “I was sure I had it,” Falman muttered from the wall. “Then she’d fold. Or I’d think that I’d seen something else and we’d all fold. I couldn’t get a bead on the sharpshooter, she was too good.” 

“Nice pun,” Breda grinned, nodding his acknowledgment to the Warrant officer. 

Jean leaned forward on the chair, resting his head on his hands. “Three in the morning came around and Colonel and Lieutenant were still playing against each other. She was calm and collected, he was drunk, leaning back, and not giving a shit. But he was holding his own. Chips were passed back and forth, and they just played as if we weren’t there. So we all said bye, abandoned our money to them and left.” 

“Colonel won’t talk about it,” Breda chuckled, reaching for his coffee. “I’m pretty sure she swept the floor with him. She bought a new hair clip. I mean, she won.” 

Havoc shrugged. He started to chew on his lip and he looked blankly out the window. 

“So you’re telling me she’s not allowed because of that?” Fuery laughed. “You are afraid of her beating you.” 

“She didn’t just beat us,” Breda cried out. “She destroyed us. She played us like a new piano! And we played harmoniously into her trap!” 

Havoc reached for another smoke. “Colonel was beaten. He is the one that said she wasn’t welcome back. I wouldn’t be surprised it was all for show. She went all in and destroyed him after we left.” 

Falman shook his head in disagreement. “The way he won right before, I’m not sure if he lost or not. I think he knew she was playing dirty and that’s why she’s not welcome back.” 

“She knew us. She knew out tells. She knew our eye twitches, our breathe changes…” 

“That’s what the game is known for. So what? She figured you out. How do we even know they didn’t split the pot and didn’t say who won or lost because they both won?”

“Because it’s Colonel that won’t let her back.” 

Fuery frowned. “It’s been two years. Invite her back. Maybe it will be different and Breda can get his revenge.” 

“No way,” Breda shook his head. “I’m not playing another card game with her unless ordered by the Fuhrer himself!” 

Fuery blinked, seeing these higher officers terrified to play poker with The Hawk. He’d never imagine these gambling goons afraid of anything, except Breda with Hayate. How could they be afraid of her in that way? They knew they had been played, that the whole game was a con she has whipped up. She’d played poker before and knew the game. So what? If they knew, why wouldn’t they fight back? 

Before Fuery could make another comment the door opened loudly and they all looked towards the door, seeing their Colonel look at the paper as he sipped his coffee. He looked up, staring at them as they stared back. “Something special going on at Fuery’s desk that I should know about?”

Breda stood up straight. “We invited him to the poker game tonight,” he informed, trying to look innocent. 

Mustang nodded cooly, tucking the paper under his arm and walked towards his desk. “Are you going to join us, Seargent Fuery?” 

“Yes.” He glanced at Havoc, a sly smile slipping from his lips. “But I was wondering if Hawkeye was going to go too.” 

Mustang stopped, frozen in his spot. “She is not,” he said firmly. He coughed, clearing his throat. “She doesn’t like to play poker.” 

Fuery raised his eyebrow towards Breda. “They just told me that she beat you and you won’t let her play now.” 

Havoc grabbed Fuery roughly by the collar. “Hey!” 

But Mustang raised his hand and grinned. “All is fair in love and war,” he reminded as he sat down. “But dirty acts like hers are not welcome at a game of poker between friends.” He crossed his legs and turned his chair to look out the window. “She knows she is not invited anymore. We need to leave it at that.” 

Fuery watched at the officer’s dispursed to their chairs. She was scheduled back shortly from the shooting range for a class she was instructing. He deeply debated bringing it up with her. He wanted to know her response. She’d probably just wave him off and say that she was accused of cheating. But most of all, Fuery couldn’t see her all dressed up with red lipstick as Havoc claimed. 

“Do I smell smoke,” Colonel asked as he raised his head from the desk. “Did you smoke in here?” He looked coldly at Havoc, who in return, lowered his head to hide from his commanding officer. “I”m not protecting you when Lieutenant Hawkeye gets here,” he warned sharply. “You’re on your own this time.” The whole office heard him sigh. “We’re all on our own,” Mustang muttered. 

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a piece of art from somewhere and decided to fic it out. If it's your art, let me know, I'd love to give you credit.  
I hope you all enjoyed the little humor. If you did, give me a kudos and a comment.  
Don't be afraid to follow me on Tumblr, if you're into that sort of thing. (@snowdog49)


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